


Hold a Wall

by wordwinx



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Bodyguard Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordwinx/pseuds/wordwinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brett Shepherd had worked for Adam Lambert as his bodyguard for about three years.  He knew what made Adam tick.  He knew what Adam drank and how long he slept.  He even knew if Adam was boxers or briefs, but when they were forced into confinement over a plausible threat, Brett got closer than he ever expected . . . close enough to smell Adam on his clothes.</p>
<p>Could he compromise his objectivity and still do his job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I like bodyguard romances even though they are lazily predictable for a writer. I am frustrated by Adam's single status right now and needed to give him an imaginary partner. I threw a story into the near future when Adam is already on tour after his third album. Poor baby has no time for a relationship beyond those friends and colleagues who remain the closest to him. I actually started this story a long time ago, but it stalled. Being confined by the winter blahs, I decided to turn the engine over on this draft again.
> 
> As always, I do not know Adam Lambert personally, and I would never assume he is irresponsible professionally in any way. This fic is for fun only.

The roars of welcome in Asia were deafening everywhere they stopped. As soon as they got off the plane, the eager fans began to swarm. Adam had taken a few steps outside the gate then swiftly turned full around again. Security marched ahead and set up a barrier with only their outstretched arms and an assumption of authority. Adam was suffering a mad bout of jetlag and hadn’t flicked the switch. He always seemed smaller when he was anxious. He avoided Brett’s eyes, but he needed him. Brett put a pair of sunglasses in Adam’s shaking hands. Adam put them on and took a deep breath. “You got this, Adam. I’m right beside you.” 

Adam waved and thanked the adoring crowd for coming to greet him. He signed autographs and pushed on. It never ceased to amaze Brett how brave Adam was. From a bodyguard’s perspective, when hundreds of people gather, it’s astonishing. When all of them are screaming your name, it’s terrifying. The smaller Adam felt, the larger Brett expanded. Brett was never more than inches from encircling Adam completely. He watched people’s hands and feet. His own body language was clear. This is my man. Adam is my purpose. Don’t touch my man. You had your turn. Don’t take it all. It wasn’t just a stance but a mindset. Brett had to own Adam or the multitudes might attempt to run away with him.

During this second international tour, Adam left absolutely everything on stage. He spent the night in some gorgeous hotel that he couldn’t even remember, then he was on a plane again. Adam collapsed on a first class seat beside Brett. He was professionally isolated from his friends this time around. Adam was loyal to the people he loved, the band and backup along with the dancers both old and new faces were all along for the ride, but the days of the glamily tours where everyone slept in a heap on the floor were over. After Adam’s third album, they accepted the reality of Adam’s superstardom before he did. They had to convince him that it was time to separate the business from the pleasure. Their affectionate message was loud and clear – get to the fuckin’ front of the plane where you belong, dickhead. 

Adam missed some of the behind the scenes interaction that helped him stay focused. He could so easily get stuck in the brain fog that came with the demands of his schedule. He wanted emotional support to help him keep going, but he was single . . . so very, very single. Adam’s team was all business and very thorough, but they always did what was best for Adam’s career not necessarily what was best for him personally. Their leadership left Adam cold. When Adam needed to connect, Brett was there. Sometimes a wink, a smile, a nod was enough to give Adam assurance. Brett often felt more like one of the personal assistants than a bodyguard. He didn’t mind.

Adam had insisted from the very beginning that Brett call him by his first name. The initial reason was it had become a running joke with the team that Brett Shepherd protected their Lambert – a shepherd and his lamb. No one but them seemed to tire of the tease. Besides, they had to be together a lot, practically all the time, so why maintain a stuffy formality. Brett was proficient but with personality. When Adam had cause to complain, Brett would address him as ‘rockstar’ just to take the edge off and remind Adam it was worth it. Brett paid attention without getting in the way or assuming entitlement. It was his job to protect Adam with no expectations in return. He was there – always, no matter what, Brett was there, a selfless companion. It was a guilty pleasure that he feared Adam was becoming dependent upon – a condition of their relationship that left Brett feeling a little too invested.

Brett had taken basic psychology in order to get his license, but he was no expert. He loved to watch people, to figure out what made them tick. He even wondered how his own brain worked. He had been having some wild dreams which actually made a lot of sense given that his personal life had been upended recently. The divorce was final. He’d signed the papers and mailed them back, so that was that. In spite of the fact that the job had cost him, Brett had no regrets while being on the road for the past six months. Adam was Brett’s priority now. Personal matters came second. 

Adam was breathing softly in the window seat, his head nestled into a fur collar and supported poorly by a thin pillow. Brett’s mind drifted asleep, and he began to dream. He was looking for something. He couldn’t remember what it was, but he was certainly frantic about it. He was barefooted so he had to watch where he was stepping, an entirely aggravating circumstance given the haste of his search. His shoulder harness was intact, but the gun was missing. There seemed no imminent danger, but his muscles were spring-loaded for action. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around to face a tray of desserts. He felt compelled to choose one, but they all looked terrible. Then laughter . . . great peals of laughter, and Brett wanted in on the joke so much, so confused. Adam was there, smiling . . . handsome. He put his hand on the back of Brett’s shoulder letting his fingers curve over the top like he always did when Adam introduced him to people. He didn’t have to do that – introduce him, but it’s just the kind of guy Adam is. They were saying goodnight, though . . . not hello. They had to go, but if he was on duty then where was his gun? Shit, where were his clothes? When did the nakedness happen? Damn all paps! Blinding flashbulbs! Someone threw a blanket over him, and it was huge like a parachute. He was swimming through the billowing folds of fabric – darkness, suffocating like slipping under water. He called Adam’s name. At least, he tried. When he finally found the edge, he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes, and he was in bed, his bed at home. He was so relieved. Sleep, finally, sleep . . . but he wasn’t alone. Had the divorce been a dream? Ah, her touch, her mouth – so so good. Brett smiled and pulled the cover away. Cinnamon scruff and blue eyes . . . down there – oh SHIT! Brett startled awake. The plane was dimly lit. Adam had not stirred. Brett went to the lavatory with a painful erection grateful for the noisy drone of cabin pressure. 

It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed of Adam. So what? But the sex, though. Dreams aren’t literal, right? Sex with your boss just means you need to take more of a leadership role in your own life. Hello, divorce, a classic loss of control. Brett looked at himself in the small mirror and analyzed it. You need freedom, but you fear the emotional isolation that goes with it. Like it or not, under the current circumstances, all you got is your job. The only person you care about right now is Adam. It wasn’t as difficult to admit that to himself as he thought it would be. The fact that he hadn’t had sex in six months was responsible for the explosive awakening. It was perfectly understandable and absolutely no big deal whatsoever, but that wasn’t the hard part. The trick was looking Adam in the eye later with the appropriate professional formality when the last time you saw him in your dream, he was giving you head.


	2. Chapter 2

They had just completed the last leg of the tour in Europe and everyone was headed home except for Adam. He and his immediate entourage were stopping in NYC first. Adam was in desperate need of a break. He was tired and irritable, but he had to keep going a while longer. Brett wasn’t supposed to respond to the job personally, but he was beginning to establish an intense dislike of practically anyone who approached Adam with a clipboard or a hand out. Brett was supposed to protect Adam but not be protective. It wasn’t any of his business, just do the job. 

Back in the states, promo had begun for a movie (filmed before the tour) in which Adam had landed a supporting role. Unfortunately, the real life drama of Adam’s career went from adventure to thriller when a stalker whose file had been dormant for months suddenly went active again. Great! That’s the last thing Adam needed now. It had to be the movie. After it wrapped, Adam had hoped they might shelve it temporarily to give him a breather from the spotlight, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. His stardom continuously drew attention. The high visibility prompted the psychos to come out. Adam was scheduled to do a couple of appearances, when his security team went on alert. One of the social media moles noticed suspicious assertions on a particular account they routinely monitored when Adam was on the east coast. Said suspect intended to occupy the crowd outside the television studio of a morning show and approach Adam, touch Adam, finally show him the love he deserved. Her plan seemed thorough in every detail. They took it seriously enough to inform the police who insisted Adam lay low . . . no media, no outward communication that might spook the suspect from follow through. Finally, they had enough to intervene on this nutjob to hold her for questioning. Adam had resisted vehemently, not wanting to acknowledge that it was a potentially threatening situation. When Brett was given an envelope with a picture, Adam wanted to see. It gave him a shiver. 

“I’ve seen her before.”

“Yeah, me too, Adam.”

“Not just meet and greets but, you know, on the street and stuff.” 

“I know.”

“She’s never tried anything.”

“Perps got nothing but time, Adam . . . wait for the right opportunity.”

Adam asked if he could just go home. That’s when they told him, this person had some sort of network, and knew his whereabouts 24/7. Brett knew how easy it was to get information if you knew who to ask. An itinerary was the easiest because it isn’t personal, just business. Anyone could fake a professional-sounding inquiry and get an answer if they asked the right way. This particular stalker was good. If Adam stepped foot into the airport, she’d find out, and the whole thing would be off. He couldn’t keep running, and this was as good a time as any. Instead of being afraid, Adam got angry. He was reluctant to go into hiding, but finally willing to oblige if it meant an end to any further intrusion. Why should he be the one imprisoned? Put the bitch in jail. He had voiced his concerns about the effect on the movie promo, but even his publicist couldn’t deny there was an upside. Stalker media was gold. 

“I’m so glad my safety is a priority in the profit margin.” Adam was being sarcastic.

“It’s not about the money, rockstar.” Brett could be quite pragmatic. “Elvis cleared over $50 mill last year with very little overhead.”

“Are you saying they must be protecting me out of the goodness of their hearts because technically, I’m worth more dead?”

“I’m saying they must consider you an investment, worthy of the long haul . . . job security and such.”

Adam just stared at him for a second then burst out laughing. “Gee thanks, Brett. I feel so much safer now.”

Brett smiled sideways. “No problem. That’s my job.”

They told Adam to hold up in the hotel for a couple days. They’d reschedule the other appearances except for the morning show. It wouldn’t be a stretch for Adam to feign illness as a reason for the missed appointments. He was exhausted. When the suspect upped the odds by booking a room at Adam’s hotel, the police insisted Adam have protection even within the confines of his suite. Adam knew his objection wouldn’t matter. Besides, he was actually a little creeped out and welcomed the company. He named Brett specifically for the assignment. Adam didn’t play favorites. Brett knew if he was the chosen one, it meant Adam truly trusted him. It felt good to be valued doing the job he loved. Adam didn’t order him, he asked, “Would you stay with me?”

“Glad to be of service,” was all Brett had said.


	3. Chapter 3

The first night they had both fallen asleep with the TV on, but they had two full days of isolation tank ahead. Hours passed. When Adam and Brett had worn out the room service staff and were tired of watching TV, they played cards. They were comfortable with each other, but by the end of that first day, confinement had already gotten tedious. Brett was used to waiting and killing time, but Adam suffered. 

Adam was distracted from the game and kept throwing away hits. “Uh, Adam, you did it again.”

Adam tossed his cards. “I can’t concentrate. God, I just want to go home.” 

“It won’t be long now. You’ll be beating off the fan boys in sunny SoCal in no time.”

“Don’t say ‘beat off.’ You have no idea how bored I am.”

“Steady, rockstar. That’s what the dual-head shower massage is for.”

Adam smiled. “Oh, really? I thought you were in there an awfully long time this morning.”

“Bodyguards don’t often get the master suite bathroom. You damn right, I’m gonna enjoy a nice hot shower while I have the chance.”

“Key word – enjoy.”

“Key word – hot. I don’t think some of those places we stayed have ever fully embraced the idea of modern plumbing.”

“Ugggghh, I remember. 18 hours of blood, sweat, and tears but only a trickle of lukewarm water to scrub it off.” 

“I guess that’s the stuff you miss most on the road – a long shower, your own fridge, . . . your own bed.”

A silence fell between them. Brett shuffled the cards and lay the table for solitaire. Adam picked up a magazine that he had already read.

“What are you going to do when you get back?” Adam knew it was a loaded question.

Brett thought it over before he responded. “You know, I’m not even sure what home is for me now. I got a buddy who’s gonna sublet his apartment, but I haven’t seen it yet.”

“It’s none of my business, and you don’t have to answer, but I’m curious. Was your divorce because of the tour?”

“Not specifically, no. I mean celebrities are unpredictable where the hours are concerned, and there’s the travel. But that’s what made me get into it in the first place.”

“Really? It doesn’t sound like you wanted a life on the road.”

“It’s the variety, I guess. I’ve worked for you, what – three years now?”

Brett came on when Adam and Sauli split. It was an easy connection. “Yeah, about three.”

“Only the past six months were travelling.”

“It just feels like forever, I guess.” He meant the tour in context but Sauli even more.

“Apparently, it seemed like forever to my wife, too.” Brett corrected himself. “My EX-wife, I mean.” Brett studied the cards he played. “It wasn’t the tour, though. We were over before I boarded the plane.”

“You haven’t taken off your wedding ring.”

Brett looked at his hand and turned it over. “I don’t want to get rid of it until I get back. It’s not like I’m going to chuck it off a bridge or something, you know. It’s just easier to wear it, I guess. You’d be surprised how many questions you can avoid just wearing a wedding ring. It’s expected. People think they know you. It can be an advantage.”

“Being a bodyguard is kind of impersonal isn’t it?”

“They actually forget you’re there when you’re holding a wall, just watching. I’ve seen some pretty fucked up shit, right in front of me like I’m invisible.”

Adam grinned. “Oh my god, you’re going to blackmail me for a tell-all scandal about my private life, aren’t you?”

“Nah, you know I wouldn’t do that. I’m not talking about you, anyway.”

“Oh really, who else did you bodyguard for? If they’re rowdier than I am, I’m gonna be crushed.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever been bodyguard for. I was talking about working security, before that.”

“Then, I’m your first . . . body. I popped your cherry.”

Brett blushed. “You could say that.”

“I’m just messing with you. Go ahead. So you started as a security guard?”

“Nope. Actually, I started as a bouncer.” 

“How come I didn’t know any of this stuff about you? Shit, a bouncer?”

“Yeah, that was a challenge, but I learned a lot about physical confrontation. I had to compensate for my size.”

Adam flattered him. “You’re not that much smaller than me, and you look really strong.”

Brett liked that Adam noticed. “Anyway, the bartender knew a guy that got me the security. I walked a beat on the night shift for a law office in LA. It was boring, but I put myself through school.”

“Wow, college?”

“An associate’s degree.”

“Law enforcement?”

“Communications.”

“That’s terrific. Good for you.” Adam was impressed by anyone who could manage to learn behind a desk.

“I met my wife at the law office. Her mom was a paralegal and set us up.”

“So how did you end up as a bodyguard?”

“I was looking for something bigger after I got married. I wanted to make more money for us. Bodyguards are a step up. I started out as a temp for the law office. Sometimes an attorney would get a threat. Sometimes they had a high-profile client. That’s how I found out about you.” Brett realized too late he shouldn’t have alluded to the connection. 

“Oh, right, the copyright case.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“It’s okay – lesson learned. He was fuckin’ family, and it didn’t matter.”

“Family can be a disadvantage. Working in the same office as my mother-in-law created a lot of problems. I had to get out of there.”

“So you took the first hot ticket out of town.” 

“Not really. I waited a bit. I had options. I chose you on purpose.”

Adam loved that. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s embarrassing. I kinda wanted a rockstar. Live vicariously, I guess.”

“Well I hope you’re not disappointed. My life is a shit circus 90% of the time. This right here has got to be a new low.” 

“It’s worth it. Well, at least, to me it is.”

“I’m really sorry about your divorce.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t fight it because . . . just because she couldn’t respect what I do, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. I’m proud of what I do. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like that if I worked for someone else, but . . .” When he looked up, Adam was watching him like he was starving for these words. “You make jokes about it, but you do a lot, Adam. Yeah, it’s parties and awards dinners, but it’s always for a good cause. And your music . . . your music especially helps people. Your voice . . . it’s . . . really something. You make a difference. I like to think I kind of help you do your thing.”

“You do. You do help me.” Adam’s eyes were misty, and he immediately apologized. “I’m sorry I’m so emotional. It’s just that Sauli said that to me. He told me when we were together that he stuck it out even when it got bad because he felt like I was doing something important. Things change, though. Things always change.” Adam looked out the window at nothing. He forced a smile. “Look at us, the lonely hearts club. I hate being stuck here. If I was home, I’d have friends over, get drunk and forget for a little while.”

Brett studied him. He had seen all of Adam’s personas – stage Adam fierce and bewitching, interview Adam honest and articulate, red carpet Adam poised and dashing, jetlag Adam distracted and dark, even after-party Adam unfiltered and funny, but he’d never gotten to know just plain Adam under the surface. Brett was satisfied that his accuracy judging character remained spot on. Over the past several hours under challenging conditions, Adam’s true colors emerged, and Brett learned he had been right to admire this man. Brett wanted to do something for him. He stretched and checked his watch. “Well, actually this thing is going down tomorrow morning, and the only thing you have to do is stay out of it and wait . . . so . . .” 

“So?” Adam was hopeful.

“So, go ahead and get drunk.”

“Really?”

“I’ll call room service. What do you want? Whiskey?”

“I want you to drink with me.”

“Nope. I can’t do it, Adam.”

“Oh come on. You said yourself we can’t go anywhere. There’s a guard at the end of the hall and another one downstairs. It’s not like the mob has a hit on me. We don’t have to get hammered . . . just a couple. I hate to drink alone.”

Brett caved. “All right just a couple, but don’t tell my boss. He’s a moody fucker.”

Adam laughed. “I like you Brett. Somebody has to take the piss outta me once in a while.”


	4. Chapter 4

Adam poured whiskey while Brett put his gun in the safe. They toasted first one thing and then another. They relived some amusing incidents along the way. It was amazing what Brett remembered, even the stuff Adam thought he’d faced alone. In truth, Brett was right there.

Brett laughed, and it was a hearty ‘ha ha ha’ kind of sound that delighted Adam and made him want to amuse the man some more. “I wonder if you remember Shee-lah’s.”

Brett pointed at Adam. “I remember we had a serious talk after that.”

“That’s when I knew for sure I could trust you.”

“Oh, so it was a test then?”

Adam winked. “Maybe?”

“I hadn’t even been on the job a month, and I’m dragging you out of that hookah den.”

“It’s not a hookah den.”

“So what would you call it?”

“It’s not a hookah den. You can trust me on that.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“No. Shee-lah’s is just . . . Shee-lah’s. It is what it is.”

“It’s a seedy hook up bar, and you know it.”

“I didn’t go there to hook up. I just needed a little . . .” Adam took a sip while he was contemplating the right word. “Shit, it’s an A word. It starts with an A.” Adam growled in frustration. “I am no fuckin’ friend to the English language . . . even when I’m sober. I wanted some fuckin’ word that starts with A.” Adam raised his glass and toasted his attempt to articulate.

Brett tried to be helpful. “Adventure?”

“No, fuck it . . . nevermind.”

“Adam? You wanted to be Adam.”

Adam brightened. “No that’s it! I wanted to be no one – annnnemmmiddy . . . . anna-nom-iddy . . . fuck!” Adam held out his hands for verbal balance. “An – non – nim – iddy.”

“Anonymity?”

“Fuck you. You’re not drunk enough. Here.” Adam poured him another, but Brett passed. He promised a couple drinks, but he was already plenty relaxed. He twisted the cap off a cola. Adam sighed. “I just wanted to be nobody for a few fuckin’ minutes.”

Brett choked. “A few fuckin’ minutes? You were in there a long damn time, man. And I was gettin’ all worried and shit.” 

Adam smiled knowingly. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“You went all diva – said, ‘stay in the car’ like some kind of . . .”

“I didn’t know you yet. I don’t usually spring Shee-lah’s on a newbie.”

“Then your friend, what’s his name? The little one.”

“Yeah, that narrows it down.”

Brett rolled his eyes quite aware of Adam’s type. “The kid with the beard.”

“The kid? How old are you, anyway? Or is it you’re just that old-fashioned?”

“I’ve got a couple years on you, rockstar.” 

“So it’s you’re boyish good looks that keep you young.”

“I gained a few gray hairs that night, thanks to you.”

“Oh my God – the look on your face when you came in to rescue me.”

“Aw Jesus, here it comes.”

“My shepherd to chase away the wolves.”

“Make fun if you want, but you weren’t the guy waiting over two fuckin’ hours in the car. That little guy, whoever he was, came running out all upset telling me you bitch slapped some jockey shorts model for calling you a bagel humpin’ breeder.”

Adam waved it away. “That’s not what happened. He wasn’t even talkin’ to me. This silly bitch was in our face all fuckin’ night taking pot shots at me, which . . . come on, do I look like I give a fuck? But then he started in on my boy, and that I will not have.”

In spite of the effeminate stereotypes, Brett had noticed that gay men were actually some of the most fearless souls, he had ever encountered. They were the victims of spite and reproach that frequently led to violence. Most of them had been street trained in one way or another, the basics of self-defense. When Brett started working for Adam, he wanted to know how well Adam could defend himself in a pinch. Adam had explained that he learned how to fight in Germany while touring with the production of Hair. There were several pods of skinheads in Europe. They singled out theater people. He had been taught by other actors, gay and straight alike how to land a punch. The idea was to get in a good one or knock them down and then run like hell. Adam told Brett he had to fight a couple times, but it was not a practice he condoned. Adam had to be provoked.

“So he insulted your date?”

“Some of the gays are such purists, you know? You fuck a girl one time and get labeled for life. But, it was more than the words. It was the last straw, right? I mean all – night – long, and I’ll be damned if anyone gets to force me out. At least you didn’t make me back down.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen. I get in the middle of it, and this dumb fuck is bleeding.”

Adam winced and wiggled his fingers. “Shoulda taken off my rings.”

“And says he’s gonna sue your ass or press charges or something.”

“He had some kind of photo shoot the next day. I have no idea what he was thinking. You gotta check yourself, Mary! He probably did it on purpose.”

“You think he got hit in the face on purpose?”

“You’d be surprised what models will do for a shoot. That street damaged look . . .”

“For jockey shorts? Street damaged underwear? Really?”

“The city of angels is no stranger to rough trade, my friend, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“I don’t know what he was selling, but he was mad. I mean . . . MAAAD.”

“You were mad!”

“Mostly at myself.”

“You literally threw me into the Range Rover like a fuckin’ sack. Oh, by the way, I get the bouncer thing now! I bounced! Oh yes, I totally bounced.”

“You smelled like piss.”

“It was cheap beer.”

“You don’t drink beer.”

“He threw a bottle at me.”

“Seriously, Adam, what the fuck were you doin’ in a joint like that?”

Adam shrugged. “How exactly did we get out of there anyway?”

“Somebody knew you, somebody with enough money to make it go away.”

“Figures. So much for anna – nim . . . an – on – im . . . fuck it. We need music.”

The alarm clock had a jack for his phone. Adam chose a playlist and tested the volume. Brett was smiling. Adam held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

“Right.”

“I mean it. Come on.”

“Really? You wanna see me dance, for real?”

“Why, yes . . . yes, I do.”

“This . . .” Brett stood up and backed himself against the wall. “This right here is how I dance.” Brett tapped his fingers on his thigh and scanned the room as if it were filled with imaginary people – the very picture of vigilance. Adam laughed. 

“How do you do it? How can you possibly stand still?” 

“I’m paid to hold a wall not raise the roof.”

“Come onnnnnn. Dance with me.” Adam swiveled in sexy turns and swayed to the rhythm for several minutes. He kept checking to see if Brett would budge. 

Brett watched him. He was witnessing a more private Adam, moving more freely even though he kept his elbows in, still slightly protective of himself. It moved Brett. He remembered distinctly how it had felt that night on the street at Shee-lah’s when he didn’t know what to do. Once he had Adam and his friend safely in the car, he kept checking on them just to make sure they really were back there. They were kissing . . . touching. Adam had his hand high up the smaller man’s thigh and by the look on his face, Brett could guess what he was doing with it. Brett hadn’t meant to spy on them, but he had been unnerved. He almost panicked not just because he made a professional blunder but also because, he had already decided he really liked Adam . . . a lot, maybe too much. Brett almost resigned. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for personal protection. The next morning, he realized he simply couldn’t abandon Adam. He trusted Brett. Adam let him in. To leave would be like a betrayal. 

Instead, they had set some ground rules about Adam’s personal interactions. Brett could be lenient when they were in LA, but on the road, Adam needed to be particularly discreet not just for the media but more importantly for his own personal safety. That was Brett’s concern – who to let in. Brett called them the tipsy twinks. He carded them, oh yes he did. They got a pat down, and Brett got lots of offers to join them. It always made Adam laugh. Brett would flash his wedding band which was the only excuse that worked. Claiming to be ‘on duty’ or ‘straight’ were hardly viable exceptions to party. Marriage, though, everyone respected. Brett stopped wondering why they thought he was gay. Brett had always felt a mild attraction to men in addition to women whom he had preferred . . . at least, until he met Adam.

Adam changed everything. Brett realized he’d been staring tonight and feeling much too much as Adam sang along or hummed to the music. Brett felt sort of hypnotized. The booze had been a bad idea. Adam saw him looking and went to him. He took Brett by the hands and led him away from the wall. He whispered. “Come on. Come on . . . I’ll show you.”

Brett cleared his throat. “Even when I’m off duty, I don’t . . . I can’t dance like that.”

“Sure you can. Just loosin’ up, feel the music with me.”

Adam was close . . . very close. Brett was intoxicated but not on whiskey. “I better not. I think I’ve had too much.”

“Suit yourself.” Adam sighed. He stopped dancing and turned off his music. Brett picked up the remote and searched the menu of channels. Adam was actually pouting. “Can we watch porn?”

“Adam.”

“Straight porn is fine.”

“How about ESPN?”

“You are seriously harshin’ my buzz, Brett.”

“Sorry.”

They sat on the couch. Adam drew his knees up and stared glassy eyed at the screen. Adam’s 6’ 1” frame all folded up like that suddenly reminded Brett of his wife the last night he was home before the tour, their last night together forever. The body language was unmistakable, vulnerability . . . loneliness. He had wanted to comfort her and now . . . he wanted to comfort Adam, to make all the stress of the past six months and the past 24 hours go away. Brett rubbed his eyes. What the fuck? Brett went to the bathroom. He popped his neck side to side. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fists the way he did before a workout. He splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. “Wise up, asshole.”


	5. Chapter 5

Brett went cautiously back into the main room. Adam was lying back although his feet were still on the floor. If Adam had passed out, maybe Brett should cover him up. Brett came closer to see if Adam was awake. Adam groaned. “Oh, man I gotta go.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“No, I mean . . . I gotta GO.”

“You know where it is.”

“I think you’re gonna have to help me.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I can’t do it.”

“No way. No. I’m not doing it.”

“Okay, then.” Adam hoisted himself up. He overshot perpendicular and went up onto his toes with the momentum. Adam stumbled past Brett, uncertainly.

“Don’t you dare piss on the floor, man.”

“I really don’t know where it’s gonna go but . . . OUT . . . gonna go out very soon.” Adam had pulled his belt completely free and dropped it with a clunk on the bathroom floor. “Uh oh.”

“Goddammit, Adam. Wait a minute.” When Brett got to Adam, he had already unzipped and pulled out, but he was weaving. “Hold on.” Brett stepped up beside him and put Adam’s arm over his shoulder. With the extra support, Adam could lean forward a little. Brett didn’t want to be looking, but he wasn’t sure Adam was aimed to go in the bowl. Nothing happened. “Are you gonna go or not?”

Adam giggled. “I can’t go with you looking at it.”

“Oh for chrissakes. Just go, will you?”

“Okay, okay.” Adam peed and peed and peed. “Bet you haven’t done this before.”

“Never, and I want a raise.”

“Oh, I can give you a raise all right.”

“You just watch what you’re doing with that thing. You hit my shoes, and I’ll kick your ass.”

Adam sighed dramatically. “Yeah, we got into so much trouble back in the day, didn’t we?”

“I didn’t know you ‘back in the day’ Adam.”

“I wasn’t talkin to you.” Brett smiled when he realized his mistake, and yeah, he glanced down again. That was a seriously impressive cock. “You’re a good man, Brett. The boys who usually help me only do it coz they know I’m gonna fuck em in a minute.” 

Brett cleared his throat. “You don’t say.” 

Adam continued dreamily. “Gonna open em up nice and slow so they can take me . . . all of me . . . scream my name . . . come so hard, they . . .”

“Jesus, Adam. Only animals with four legs have bladders like this.” Brett wasn’t comfortable with what Adam’s absent-minded dirty talk was doing to him. Brett leaned past him to flush, and Adam hugged him. 

“Thanks, Brett.”

“Don’t mention it . . . like ever, to anyone.” Adam’s pants were still open. This hug was getting awkward, and Adam wasn’t letting go. 

“What would I do without you?”

“Piss on the floor probably.”

“I mean it. I need you. You’re special.”

“Well, that’s nice to know, now let’s get you back to . . .” Brett tried to hoist Adam along, but Adam buried his face in Brett’s shoulder.

“You smell nice. What cologne is that?”

Brett rolled his eyes. “I don’t wear any. I’m just a wall – invisible, remember?” 

“You’re not invisible, not to me. I see you, Brett.” Brett wasn’t prepared for the bare honesty on Adam’s face. “I see you.” 

Brett needed some space . . . now. He let go of Adam but much too abruptly. Adam lost his balance forcing Brett backward. Now he really was part of the wall, and Adam was 180 lbs of drunk muscle pressing him in. This was one of those times when it would have benefited Brett greatly to have a height advantage. “Adam, don’t pass out on me. I am not gonna drag your ass to bed. You’ll fuckin’ sleep in the tub, I swear . . .” Brett couldn’t tell if Adam’s lids were drooping because he was too drunk to lift them or because he was super focused on the words coming out of his mouth, but there was something of a warning in the way Adam inhaled like a hiccup that made Brett turn his head. He squinted shut his eyes certain Adam was going to vomit on him. 

Adam wasn’t sick, though. He had merely leaned in closer. The longer they stood, the more intent Adam became until Brett’s impulse was to use his self-defense training. He could easily get away, but he didn’t want to hurt Adam. It wasn’t necessary. He’d handled drunks before, but not while he’d been drinking himself. And maybe, just maybe there was another reason for his hesitation. 

Brett’s head began to swim on adrenaline. He could feel Adam’s breath on his neck then the wet tug of Adam’s tongue behind his ear. All of a sudden, he wasn’t exactly standing anymore. Adam had grabbed Brett’s ass and rolled his hip until Brett was straddling Adam’s thigh. It was happening too fast, and it felt too good. Brett couldn’t get it together. Now there were fingers at this fly and teeth at his collar. He was trapped. Adam was making progress along Brett’s jaw. In a failed attempt to turn the other way, Brett brushed Adam’s lips with his own. 

Adam held Brett’s face firmly with both hands and kissed him full on the mouth. Brett let it happen. Adam slipped his fingertips along the downy texture of Brett’s close-cropped hair and cupped the back of his head. Brett hadn’t kissed a man since college, but somehow it wasn’t at all weird for him . . . just very, very intense. Adam seemed to know instinctively that Brett needed to breathe. The oxygen only fed the fire. As they panted together, Brett noticed that he had a tight grip on Adam’s waist. Adam was in his hands now. If he let go, he could duck under Adam’s arm and be free. Instead, he tipped his chin up to kiss again. They both submitted to it. Their lips were crushing, helpless. They spoke of loss and loneliness so much more clearly than any guarded words they had managed to communicate before. Brett was seized by arousal. His strength returned. He squeezed Adam’s hips and ground into him. The moan was Adam’s, but it wasn’t for him. Brett froze in a moment of clarity. None of this was for him. It was too passionate, too affectionate. Adam wouldn’t be with Brett, not like this. It was wrong.

“Stop. Stop it.” At first they only stood there, forehead to forehead. Then Brett got a grip on Adam’s upper arms and pushed him gently back. Adam stared at Brett’s face as if he were trying to recognize him. Brett came off the wall and found his feet securely flat on the floor again. Adam was still nakedly open between them. Brett’s shirttail was spotted from the contact. He pressed his hand against Adam’s chest to keep him at a distance. 

Adam blinked, confused and cloudy. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Brett steadied him, then slowly and so carefully wrapped Adam’s arm around his shoulders and supported most of Adam’s weight as they staggered together through the door. They kept on shuffling toward the bed until Brett put him down. Adam slumped on the edge while Brett pulled his covers down. Adam turned away as Brett covered him up.

It had been an ordeal, and Brett had broken a sweat. He returned to the bathroom. He unbuttoned his shirt half down then pulled it over his head. He stared at it wadded in his hands. No, fucking way. This is not part of the job. You’re close. You have to be, and there are certain things you learn about your client besides how he takes his coffee. You’re the bodyguard, so you have to read his signals. You have to know when he’s tired, worried, restless. The familiarity just goes with the territory. Sure you know what he eats and how late he sleeps, and you probably even know if he’s boxers or briefs, but you do NOT know how his body smells on your clothes, and god help you . . . you don’t ever admit even to yourself why you’re standing there inhaling it much longer and more deeply than any sane man should. What the fuck was happening to him? Brett tried to wash up, but it didn’t matter. The warm, spicy smell of Adam’s body lingered. It was woven into the threads of his clothes and had soaked into his pores. It was hopeless, he could still taste him. Brett brushed his teeth and ran a shower hotter than comfortable at first, but he finally adjusted to the brutal torrent. He couldn’t clear his head. He kept replaying the episode between them. Adam’s arm around his shoulders. Adam’s tongue down his throat. Adam’s thigh between his legs. Adam’s moan in his ears. It was bad. Brett had to get it out of his system. He turned the faucet full on cold.


	6. Chapter 6

When Brett awoke, he was disoriented for a moment then bolted upright looking for Adam. He wasn’t in his bed. Brett heard the shower running and relaxed. He pulled on some sleep pants and went to the half fridge for something to revive him. He started a pot of coffee. There were remnants of a bloody mary on the counter along with a bottle of aspirin. Adam was medicating a hangover.

It was early yet, really early. Brett wondered if they’d had any progress in apprehending the stalker. He checked his messages. No reports so far. He turned on the weather, cold and cloudy . . . of course. Brett went to the window. He pulled the heavy drapes back a bit, but it offered little light into the room. That was probably a good thing given Adam’s condition.

Adam came out of the steamy bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips. “If you want a shower . . .”

“That’s okay. I took one last night.”

Last night – those words seemed to echo off the walls then the memory was in the room with them. Adam opened a water and began to chug it. A trickle escaped the corner of his mouth and flowed down the side of his throat working powerfully to restore hydration. Adam wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He looked like he was preparing to say something, and Brett wasn’t ready. He escaped into the bathroom to use the toilet . . . brush his teeth . . . shave . . . clip his nails . . . then he knew he couldn’t avoid Adam’s apology any longer.

When Brett entered the main room, Adam was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was soft and natural. His eyes were tired. He was sipping coffee and watching the news.

“Have you heard any word yet? About the stalker situation?”

“Not yet. It might be going down right now, actually. I didn’t realize how early it still is. I thought you’d sleep in.”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Oh?”

“It was about you.”

“Oh.”

“I had a dream that you quit, and there were all these papers I had to initial or something. Then I was signing autographs instead – just paper after paper after paper, and you weren’t there. So many people but not you. I was alone. It was awful.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’ve considered resigning about a million times.”

“Why? You know, I shouldn’t be surprised. Every time I let someone in, he walks out.” Adam sounded fatalistic and it wasn’t like him.

“Adam, how can I do my job when . . .?”

Adam pressed his temple. “Look, I was drunk. I was lonely. I was a little scared and a little angry and all that negative energy switched over, and . . . you were there.”

“Right. It could’ve been anyone. I get it.”

“That’s not true.”

“You were thinking about somebody . . . anybody else. I knew you’d regret it, so . . .”

“That’s not true. I knew it was you.” Brett’s reaction showed on his face a split second before he went blank again. “Do you know that you’ve been with me longer than any boyfriend I’ve ever had? I know it isn’t the same thing, it’s just . . .”

“It’s classic, you realize. It’s the first thing they tell you – don’t get too close. Don’t get personal. It’s a job. You get to know your clients. You might even like them, but it stops there. It’s a job. It’s my job, Adam.”

“I know that. I took advantage, and I’m sorry.”

Brett rubbed his chin and tried to shrug off the weight of the words he had to say . . . had to. “I kissed you back. You weren’t exactly coherent. I’m the one who crossed the line.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m always a little fucked up when I’m drinking and now you with your divorce . . .”

“Adam, this is not a rebound. I didn’t go off and lay some co-ed groupie at the Super-8 Motel. I made out with a man in a bathroom, for chrissakes!”

“Don’t even pretend that you haven’t before. I wasn’t that incoherent.”

“You’re impossible. I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Brett, I kissed you, and you let me. So what?”

“I lost control. I . . .”

“That’s the part that’s really bugging you, isn’t it? You’re used to being in control like all the fuckin’ time, and you let it slip away for a second.”

“I don’t know how to get it back, Adam.”

“You’re making way too big a deal about it.”

“You think it’s nothing.”

Adam tried to sound glib. “Please, I make out with people all the time.”

“No you don’t.”

Adam blinked. Brett knew him too well. He knew how many there had been. He knew how long Adam went without. He knew how empty it made him feel. Adam spoke softly. “So how do you suggest we get past this?”

Brett’s voice was even softer. “I don’t know if we can. I don’t know if – I can.”

“Well that sucks. That really sucks, Brett.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be! Your timing is totally fucked.”

“I’m not just going to walk out, not now, not with what’s going down.”

“That’s right, you’re not. I’m not going to let you quit.” 

“Adam.”

“Do you really think anyone else can protect me as well as you can?”

Brett hadn’t considered the fact that he’d waste away the hours wondering if some other guy was taking care of Adam . . . HIS client – HIS man – HIS Adam. “No. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then, don’t.”

“It’s not just a professional thing for me.”

“It isn’t for me either.”

“Sometimes, it’s really hard to keep my distance.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“I want . . . so much . . .”

“So do I.”

Brett took a step closer. He held Adam by the shoulders for a few seconds, then he pulled Adam into his arms. Adam hesitantly returned the hug letting Brett have control of the situation this time. Brett wrapped him up a little tighter so they had to take a step to keep their balance. Brett’s palms were wide and warm across Adam’s back, and they just stood there for a moment, arms around each other. The longer they stood, the more intimate their embrace became. Something inside Adam seemed to give way like he was buckling. He nuzzled in to Brett’s neck and trembled. Brett pressed his cheek to Adam’s then kissed him, soft and open and whole. He slipped his tongue into Adam’s mouth, and this time he knew the moan was for him, only him. Adam kissed him back, long and deep. Brett felt his body respond, hard and low. Somehow, having control of the situation allowed Brett to own his feelings, to accept what was happening, as free will.

Brett whispered. “You still think it’s nothing, rockstar?”

“You still wanna quit?” They kissed again and began to paw at each other’s clothes. They were moving toward Adam’s bed.

“I think if we get in bed, I can make you fire me instead.”

Adam smiled. “You can try.”

“Key word – try.”

“I think the key word here is – fire.”


	7. Chapter 7

They fell across the bed. Brett pinned Adam down. Adam grinned. “Over or under, doesn’t matter – I am one toppy bitch.” With that, Adam slipped out of his grip. Brett hovered above him as Adam nipped at his firm stomach and unfastened Brett’s pants. 

Brett gave up the lead as soon as Adam took the first drag off the end of his cock. Brett rolled onto to his back and clawed at the sheets. He wanted to touch Adam, but the sensation of Adam’s gentle fingers and wet mouth skillfully blowing his mind left Brett well short of motor function. Adam was hungry to swallow him down and finish him off, so satisfied like licking a spoon.

Adam crept up to the headboard, and Brett put Adam beneath him again. This time Adam went willingly. He slung one of his long, long legs over Brett’s hip. Brett bent his knee up under Adam’s ass and just like that, they fit. Adam didn’t ask about Brett’s experience, but he was certainly no novice. Adam did what he liked and measured Brett’s responses from uhhhhh? to absofuckinlutely! So far, Brett was very, very eager to explore. His first tentative touches were maddeningly stimulating for Adam whose lovers sometimes went for it full throttle, missing the subtle thrill of taking Adam apart a piece at a time. 

Brett’s instincts were ideal. He leaned over Adam’s body, from the waist in order to suck him from the top down. The angle was more natural when Adam’s cock was this erect, and it also gave Adam an excellent view of Brett’s ass. Adam kept one hand on the back of Brett’s head while the other casually pinched and kneaded the taut flesh of Brett’s cheeks. Adam spit on his thumb and circled Brett’s hole with delicate pressure. Brett didn’t lose his rhythm, but he coughed slightly and Adam sensed him clench. He cupped Brett’s plush balls and rolled them in his palm. Brett wriggled for more. 

Adam felt his climax building fast. He pushed Brett off. He tugged the length of this satiny shaft from base to tip a couple times. Brett closed his eyes and opened his mouth. The visual was a lust punch low in Adam’s belly and he came, glossing Brett’s swollen lips with spunk. When Brett turned submissive like that, Adam’s eyes had darkened with the prospect of an experimental partner. Adam pampered Brett afterward. He brought him a drink and a cloth, and then they cuddled under the blankets delighted by their intimacy like newlyweds. Thankfully they could forget if only for a moment, the reason they had tumbled into bed in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cell buzzed loudly as it vibrated on the nightstand, and Brett was instantly awake. He cleared his throat then lowered his voice, hopefully allowing Adam to sleep a little longer. “Hello.”

“Brett?”

“What’s up?” Brett pulled the sheet over his nakedness.

“We got her.”

“Good. What happened?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m not.”

“Bet the rockstar is still asleep.” 

Brett checked the clock. It was 12:30. He glanced over at Adam’s slumbering form. His scruffy cheek was wrinkled on the pillow. His shoulder, quite freckly above the tattoo, curved like an angel’s wing under his chin. “He’s exhausted. Is it over?”

“We apprehended the woman and questioned her. She had a pair of scissors, but she swore she was just going to cut the barricade tape so she could get close to him. She had a poster and a book of weird poems she wrote. I don’t think she gets it that she’s crossing a line – so fucking entitled. Between you and me, I say she’s pretty harmless, but a restraining order will be put in place just to make sure. They’re going to hold her a little longer until Adam’s out of town.”

“How did she know all that stuff about Adam, though . . . like his itinerary?”

“Apparently her insiders were just employees she knew who worked at a few of the venues."

"It's that easy?"

"It's that easy. They got information about visiting celebrities early on for promo. She just happened to be a volunteer at a couple charity events and met fellow fans of Adam’s who worked there. They have all been identified and are being questioned. I’m sure they’ll lose their jobs.”

Brett sighed in relief. “So she’s finished. She’s not a threat anymore.”

“Nah. Doesn’t mean she’s not psycho as shit, but without contacts, . . .”

“I’ll fill Adam in when he gets up.” Brett smiled stupidly at how that sounded. He definitely wanted to fill Adam in.

“Don’t let him sleep too much longer. He’s got an appearance this afternoon.”

“Already?” 

“The Tonight Show gets an exclusive – same network as this morning. They made a bid for the trailer and already bought rights to a clip of Adam’s role.”

“Shit. It never ends.” The film promo would continue especially now that the news media had witnessed the arrest of Adam’s stalker. Adam would be coached to make a brief statement then claim the rest was still under investigation. He would be at liberty to say he was safe, and that was about it. They’d focus on the conclusion of his sold-out world tour and the upcoming film. The morning show would get their chance at the Hollywood premiere a couple weeks down the road. Hopefully, the stalker story would be a footnote by then.

“His publicist is gonna call within the hour. He’s got to be at the studio for prep, and . . .”

“I hear you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Get ready for a media blitz, Shepherd. You might wanna keep an eye on your Lamb. The wolves are already circling Rockefeller Plaza.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight.”

Brett disconnected the call. He caressed Adam’s hair and moved a stray strand off his forehead. ‘His lamb’ – Brett was starting to like that. Adam stirred and rolled over on his back. Brett squeezed Adam’s arm. “Hey. Adam . . . wake up.”

Adam moaned. He pulled his arm away and bent his elbow over his eyes. “Noooooo . . . fuck off.”

“Come on, there’s a dual head massage with your name on it.”

Adam smirked. “He said head massage.” He reached for Brett who climbed over the sheet a thin barrier between them. Adam grunted as Brett nestled down. He tickled and kissed and nibbled at Adam until he flashed that dazzling white smile. “Stop it.”

“You’ve got to get moving, rockstar.”

Adam’s eyes lit up. “We can leave? Did they get her?”

“Yup. It’s over. She’s not going to bother you anymore.”

“So, I get to go home now?” Adam braced himself for the wrong answer.

“Not yet.”

“Fuuuuuck. I knew it.”

Brett told Adam about the arrest and The Tonight Show. Adam took the call from his publicist and asked the desk to buzz when the car arrived. All this he accomplished without leaving the bed, without leaving Brett’s side. They couldn’t linger there, warm and naked much longer. For two days, Adam had wanted nothing more than to put this chapter behind him, and now it seemed that it was passing too fast.

They showered together and made the most of their soft, soapy skin. They were playful at first, laughing and splashing like boys so glad to be going home soon. Adam seemed well-prepared for the interview. He went from chatty to pensive to calm, and Brett knew it was the right mix of excited and anxious to finish strong. Words no longer seemed necessary, but Brett resorted to sensory stimulus to make Adam feel beautiful, invincible. Brett bathed him. He sponged Adam’s shoulders then kissed the back of his neck. Adam stretched gracefully then reached behind. He positioned Brett up close, then rubbed his ass against Brett’s semi-hard erection. Brett got a rush of pleasure that felt like effervescent bubbles in his blood.

Brett shuddered. “Ah . . .”

Adam made a small noise that sounded like a hush. He leaned back a bit until the pulse of the water was just right. He squeezed the sponge behind his head and let the suds cascade down his spine. Brett held Adam’s hips and pressed his cock so easily between Adam’s cheeks. His voice came out as a rasp. “Like this?”

Adam whispered, “Yessss.” He leaned forward spreading his feet and his hands across the mosaic tile in the stall. Brett flexed his thighs. At first he simply slid his cock under Adam’s balls, but when Adam bent further still, he bumped against Adam’s hole once, then twice. Adam turned his head under his arm and begged. “Pleeeaaaaase.”

Adam’s flesh was so supple, so fragrant – Brett followed his impulses. He thumbed Adam’s cheeks apart and went down. He lapped with broad strokes the water that trickled into his mouth off Adam’s skin. Adam’s head snapped back as he tried to stifle a guttural wail. Brett tongued Adam’s hole with circles and jabs until any resistance was all but gone. 

Adam’s legs were quivering when Brett climbed up and fucked him, finally. Adam breathed through his mouth great draws of heavy steam. He stroked his cock and grunted in tandem with Brett’s thrusts. Adam tried to leverage his foot in the soap niche. Brett lifted Adam’s leg in the crook of his arm. Adam had to brace himself with one hand and one shoulder, his face pressed flat against the side.

Adam growled when he came. Brett grabbed Adam around the waist and pulled out. He pumped hot ropes of cum across the backs of Adam’s thighs. Adam slowly turned in Brett’s arms, and they steadied each other until they could stand on their own. Adam brushed his lips against Brett’s ear. “I think I need a shower.”

Brett laughed and reached for a towel. “I’m not falling for that again.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They packed in haste with no time for conversation. Adam knew they would dress him at the studio and do his hair and make-up for the cameras so he left the hotel in a zipped jacket and a cap. Brett put Adam in the car and stood watch while the driver arranged their bags in the trunk. They would head for the airport directly after the show.

In the car, he and Brett were quiet most of the ride until they got stuck in traffic. The shelter of a shared bed seemed like a fragile thing when confronted by the enmity of the street. 

Adam chomped his gum. The silence worried him. “What’s on your mind?”

Brett was on duty again. “I’ve been thinking about my options.”

Adam assumed he was joking. “I guess we can negotiate a raise, but only if you’re willing to wave the lap dance gratuity.”

“Oh, I see how it is. If I’m going to be a gigolo now, the money’s in freelance. I could bank some serious coin with an old retired starlet who wants an escort to Sunday brunch and the Civic League.” Adam huffed. “Don’t worry, rockstar. If I get her off twice a week, I might still have time for you.”

Adam’s humor was icy. “So – gigolo bodyguard with a moonlighting pussy clause? This is getting complicated.”

“It’s going to get really complicated, Adam. You already know who’s gonna know we’re fucking, and you already know who can never find out. It’s hard enough in the industry even when you aren’t distracted by personal bullshit.”

“You’re the one who psychoanalyzes every fuckin’ thing, and you should know that nobody does anything without their own personal bullshit.”

Brett smiled. “You ARE my own personal bullshit.”

“And that’s why you can protect me better than anyone, a perfect arrangement of personal and professional.”

“It’s a dangerous combination. You don’t know how badly I want to beat the shit out of every single bloodsucker, who comes along wanting a piece of you. That’s not an acceptable reaction to a radio executive.”

Adam grinned. “Actually, I can think of a couple radio execs I’d like to see you clock.”

“I’m supposed to stop fights, not start them . . . although, thug is more respectable than gigolo.”

“You’ve got a million reasons why it won’t work. I wonder you can’t think of one single reason it will.”

“I know a reason.”

“Terrific. I'm sure it's a doozy.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Adam stared at Brett not sure if he meant it, but Brett’s eyes were shining with both the depth of resolve and the sting of futility. He was stone cold serious. The car started moving again, and Adam felt like time was sand in his hands. “Given my history, I can’t possibly convince you it isn’t a mistake – loving me . . . but I’m asking anyway. Please stay?”

“When it ends, it’s gonna hurt real bad.”

“It always does.”

The car pulled up to the curb and stopped. The windows were blackened, but Adam could see out. There was a crowd of media armed with microphones, along with enough bystanders to warrant a sporting event. The driver got out and was coming around to open the door. Adam took a deep, tremulous breath. Brett handed him his sunglasses. “We got this Adam. I’ll be right beside you.”


End file.
